


Some say the world will end in fire.

by thawing_wind



Series: Goldfish [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iceman (Marvel), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Nobody Dies, POV Bobby Drake, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, coherency?, i don't know her, party like it's 2016, steve/bucky if you squint - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thawing_wind/pseuds/thawing_wind
Summary: They are staring at a pet store.„How long have you been waiting? Are you sure, he hasn't left through the back door?“„He hasn't,“ Johnny insists. He sounds nervous, tough, and just like that whatever is in the cup in front of him starts to steam.Bobby touches the mug to make the heat go down. He's a nice guy after all. For now.„So, If we're just staring, wanna tell me how you found him?“Bobby is happy working for S.H.I.E.L.D. He really is. Sure it is boring and he feels useless, but at least he knows what to expect when he gets up in the morning. That is until Johnny Storm wants to catch the Winter Soldier.
Relationships: Bobby Drake & Johnny Storm, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Goldfish [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638655
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Some say the world will end in fire.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a dream I had back in 2016, so not everything makes perfect sense. But then again, I guess it doesn't have to. 
> 
> I also feel like adding that English isn't my first language, but I don't think that counts as an excuse to ignore punctuation rules. I don't have excuses, other than that I've written this over the course of the last 3 years and I just want it gone from my harddrive, from my brain, and my to-do list! :D
> 
> (Quotes are from "the sleeper awakes" by H.G. Wells which I read almsot exactly 10 years ago and which I did not reread.)

**Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. - Robert Frost  
Let's work together. - Johnny Storm**

Bobby Drake, real life avalanche, human icicle, scratch that, the _amazing_ human icicle, has just poured himself a cup of coffee, when the phone, no, when the phone rings.  
He feels it really before he hears it, just a subtle vibration of the wooden desk, static in the air, the feeling of anticipation that makes his skin crawl just the tiniest bit; then it rings, shrill and demanding, and it doesn't stop ringing. It's an unpleasant sound almost like a human scream and he has to think of his mother for a moment and the last time she had screamed at him.  
_„It's a sign of moral decay,“_ the phone screams. And, _„We didn't raise you to be like that.“_ And then, _„How could you do this to us?“_  
He let's it ring a total of seven times just to make sure he's not dreaming, even though it's against protocol and something he would never dare to do when his mother calls. Then again, his mother hasn't called him in a long time.  
The phone is not exactly the red phone, even though color wise, Bobby thinks, he would prefer red, or any color really, over he dull gray. But it is important enough that he shouldn't have left it alone, not even to get coffee earlier and, at least it says so in his contract, not even to take a piss. But Clara who has the office right next to the coffee machine is nice, and most of the days, she doesn't tell on him.

When Bobby first had been introduced to the job, after a few weeks of intense vetting and before they had sat him in the room with the phones, they had sat him down in a different room on a different chair. They had given him a folder filled with instructions on how to behave in emergency situations. Later they had sat him down in the other room, that would become his office, and they had sat him down in front of two telephones and they had told him to wait and to do his job and to never leave his place without informing his superiors. 

Yet, all things considered, the job isn't that bad. In any case, he's had worse. It's just so incredibly boring at times. Once or twice a day the black phone rings and Bobby picks up the receiver and says _'yes'_ and _'okay'_ and takes on codes that he doesn't understand, but writes down dutifully to pass on to his superiors at the end of his shift. 

The gray phone, tough, had been staying silent, hadn't rung once in the six months he'd been assigned to the job. He had already considered that it had been strategically placed to keep him on his toes, to give him the illusion of having an important job. It's not necessary of course. Bobby is content with being unimportant. He is fine with sitting all day, he is fine with filling out paper work and he is fine with complaining to his coworkers about how crowded the subway is on his way to work. Again and again and again. He doesn't need excitement or danger or the feeling of being useful. And he has long forgotten about the emergency protocol. But now the other phone rings and he decides to pick up.

„Drake,“ he says. There's just noise, no one talking, and he thinks it's just static at first, until he can hear a car honk. „Drake here,“ he says again, louder his time.

„Codename?“ a firm voice answers. It sounds urgent. 

„Bobby Drake,“ he whispers. „Iceman. Who's there?“ 

„It's me, Bobby. I have eyes on the Winter Soldier.“

Apparently having eyes on the Winter Soldier means sitting outside a café on a cheap plastic chair and staring across the street from behind a newspaper.

„That's not very superhero like,“ Bobby can't stop himself from saying.

„Shut up,“ Johnny Storm barks back. „We have … unusual circumstances.“

Unusual circumstances mean that they are staring at a pet store.

„How long have you been waiting? Are you sure, he hasn't left through the back door?“ 

„He hasn't,“ Johnny insists. He sounds nervous, tough, and just like that whatever is in the cup in front of him starts to steam.

Bobby touches the mug to make the heat go down. He's a nice guy after all. For now.  
„So, If we're just staring, wanna tell me how you found him?“

Johnny folds his newspaper and puts it away. Bobby's getting a better look at him now. He's wearing jeans and a clean white t-shirt and doesn't look prepared for battle at all. Bobby thinks he's never seen him in civilian clothes before.

„Don't look at me like that,“ Johnny hisses. „I was on my way to … meet someone.“ 

Bobby tries, but he can't hide his smirk.  
„Is that so?“ he asks „That's the story? You were on your way to a date, but then you left her waiting, because you decided to stalk him instead? I'm not saying it doesn't make sense, I'm sure that arm can be a turn on for some people. Maybe you can – „

„Shut up! This isn't funny. We are talking about the Winter Soldier, this is serious business. It's promotional material. I called you because I trust you! So get it together.”

He is right of course, but it's also relieving to see the guy who played his commander for the past few months, even though, legally, he isn't, so nervous. 

„There's not really a story. I just saw him on the street. He was just – walking,“ Johnny finally continues.

„Are you sure it's him?“

Johnny looks at him, brows raised. „How many guys with a metal arm do you think there are walking around in New York?“

Probably more than in any other city in the world but it's still a good point.  
„He hasn't even tried to hide it?“ Bobby asks. This sounds all to conspicuously easy.

„He was wearing gloves. But his sleeves didn't cover all of his arm. I don't think he bothered much about hiding.“

„Have you contacted Captain Rogers?“ Bobby asks and immediately regrets that he did. He doesn't need to see the look on Johnny's face to know that Captain Rogers, has in fact not been contacted. If he had, Bobby wouldn't be here, he'd be still sitting in front of his silent phone, drinking his third cup of coffee and wishing for something exciting to happen. Just maybe something less exciting than the goddamn Winter Soldier. 

„Agent Rogers has not been contacted,“ Johnny snarls, managing to sound as if he is accusing Bobby of all people.  
Bobby's starting to think he shouldn't have teased him because of the date.  
„Agent Rogers is compromised. I didn't think it'd be smart to inform him of the sighting.“

Compromised? It's not like Bobby hasn't heard the rumors, he has. It is almost impossible not to, because while at his bureau people tend to stay at their desks and be grumpy and silent and miserable, the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarter seems like a beehive of buzzing, dancing agents, collecting gossip like pollen. The few times he had used one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. controlled gyms the locker room gossip had almost been unbearable. Still, it feels weird to hear Johnny say it in an official, or an almost official, context.

„Do you – do you really think that? You know that it's true what people say about them?“

„What?“ Johnny's lips twitch, but he doesn't look like he's about to laugh. „People say a lot of things about a lot of people.“

„You know what I mean. You know, that Captain – Commander – Rogers, you know?“ Instinctively he reaches into his pockets to check if his wallet's still there. He might need it after all.  
He doesn't see any change in Johnny's expression and he decidedly doesn't see the small flame leaking over the rim of the cup. He thinks about freezing his drink, but decides to file away that plan for winter.

„Do you mean the rumor that Rogers refused to fight an internationally wanted assassin on the helicarriers and they talked instead? Or the rumor that said assassin is actually his long lost childhood friend who's just magically still alive after 70+ years? Or the rumor that Rogers actually is the Winter Soldier himself, and it is all just one big government conspiracy after the other?“  
Personally, Bobby hasn't heard the last one yet, but he gets the message. He can understand where Johnny's coming from. Bobby himself hadn't really been around when the hydra debacle had happened but he understands how it might make someone doubt the people around them, even if people means Captain America. 

“Well, do you believe any of the stories?” he asks. For a moment he doesn't think he'll get an answer. Johnny takes a sip of his drink and then another one.  
“Oh my God, you believe they fucked. That is the stupidest of all the rumors. I actually know who made that one up.”  
There's a bit of milk on Johnny's his upper lip- He must be drinking coffee then. 

“I believe there is something going on. I have seen Steve Rogers fight, and so have you. Sure, the Winter Soldier is a fair match, but there is no way he could have beaten up Rogers like that. So something's not right.”  
It sounds awfully conspiratorially, but Bobby can't blame him.

“And that's why we aren't calling him? Do you know, I have his number? I had to redirect a message from him once, and they fucked up caller ID.” Bobby is sure he should have told someone, because something like that really shouldn't happen to S.H.I.E.L.D. No wonder Hydra had had such an easy time infiltrating. But he hadn't told anyone. Instead he had tried his hardest to remember the series of numbers, to not let them slip from his phonological store, until he could get home to write them down. The number is now on a piece of paper in his wallet.  
“And what about S.H.I.E.L.D.?” he continues. “Shouldn't we call them?”

„I called _you_ ,“ Johnny gets out from behind gritted teeth, „because I think I can trust you. And, against all better judgment, I think it is possible for us to be a good team. Also, we are S.H.I.E.L.D. Don't forget it. So can you please … just suck it up, alright?“

When Johnny had started working for S.H.I.E.L.D., almost half a year ago, the Hydra thing had just been over and only a handful of agents had been left. So he'd thought, why not? It's not like he was invincible, just cursed with an unusual set of skills. He sure as hell wasn't getting any younger and the X-men thing had kind of ended in a debacle.  
And after the whole _almost coming out thing_ and the subsequent _freaking out thing_ , that he tries not to think about- a job with relatively set hours, vacation time, and healthcare had seemed like a smart idea, an idea his parents had seemed to like, too, even if they hadn't told him so. And since back then the only real requirement had seemed to be 'don't be evil' ,he had felt plenty qualified.

Before they had assigned him to the room with the telephones and had told him not to move, to sit still and wait, just in case, and he had realized that his new job was nothing more than the one of a glorified call center agent with just a slightly higher clearance level than the one of the average civilian, they had set Johnny Storm on him.  
They hadn't told him, of course. But he had recognized him on the first day, had felt his presence, on the street, in the grocery store, even hanging out in front of his house, smoking in more than one way and trying his hardest not to appear suspicious, while he had stared through Bobby's windows to catch a glance inside. Bobby had invited him in one day, when he'd been really tired and kind of lonely and the evening had ended in them screaming at each other, over something he doesn't remember. They had become kind of friends after that, and Bobby had learned a valuable lesson: he can like someone and think that that someone is an asshole at the same time.

Up until this day, he's not sure why they had chosen Johnny to follow him around, because from what he can tell the guy hasn't got an inch of stealth in him even without his uniform, the evidence being right in front of him in form of sunglasses and newspaper.  
He has two main theories though, one being that they had chosen the flame-guy because their powers are so obviously contrary, or complementary as Bobby secretly likes to think. Or that maybe they think Johnny has an advantage in taking him out just in case he turns out to be anything else than the relatively harmless superhuman that he his, the one with the sober goal of being useful some days and being left alone the rest of the time. 

The other reason, he figures, might be, that there hadn't really been any alternative to Johnny, S.H.I.E.L.D. having being as compromised and shrunken in size as it had been, and Bobby not being quite important enough to be surveiled by the Black Widow or Maria Hill herself.  
So Bobby had ended up with Johnny as his … well they had ended up together somehow, and Bobby figures it makes sense that Johnny chooses him to accompany him on his mission if only for the fact that probably no one will realize that he's missing, because, with any luck, neither one of his phones will be called again today.

„Wow.“ is all Bobby can answer. „For someone who runs so hot all the time, you sure can act pretty cold, huh.“  
„Sure, just how you like it, _Icefucker_.“ Somehow, it doesn't sound like an insult, and now Bobby can finally see the corners of Johnny's lips twitching just the slightest bit as if he's trying really hard not to grin, and Bobby thinks Johnny might be right, they might turn out to be a good team, maybe even real friends, after this.  
He doesn't want to admit it of course.

“What do you think he's doing inside? Do you think he's buying a pet?”

“A pet?” Johnny snorts. “What kind of pet would he even buy? What would he do with it?”

Bobby thinks about it for a moment. He settles on something deadly. A snake, maybe, or a spider. He isn't sure, though, that regular pet stores carry poisonous animals. “You're right.” he agrees. “It's probably something else.” 

They should check it out. Maybe they could do it later, in case they survive, in case they don't loose their jobs. Or maybe they could come back, even if they do lose their jobs. Bobby never used to worry about things like that. He used to get an idea and then he went out froze stuff and – anyway, he's not doing that anymore.

“What's your plan, anyway? In case he really comes back out.”

“Between you and me, we have an impressive set of skills. I think we might be able to handle him.” Bobby isn't sure that's right- It also doesn't sound much like a plan, but it is kind of nice to be called impressive for a chance instead of disappointment or freak.

It hits him all of the sudden, that even though he's done nothing but complain and the Human Torch really is, figuratively, not literally, thank God, a pain in the ass, this, waiting for one of the deadliest assassins he's ever heard of, without any backup and without a proper plan, really is the most fun he's had since he's started working for S.H.I.E.L.D. So he is almost disappointed when the door of the store opens and a guy comes out.

To be honest, he isn't sure, it really is the Winter Soldier. It could be any guy dressed in baggy clothes. His arm isn't visible, even if Johnny claims it is, and his face is hidden by sunglasses and a hat.  
Johnny stands up though, tapping his pants as to get rid of imaginary dust. “It's him.”, he exclaims, “Quick!”

Quick, it turns out, means slow in this case. Slow and tedious. They have to stay behind, not to get caught, and Johnny really pays attention this time. He seems to have gotten slightly better at the whole following thing, or maybe, back then, he just hadn't considered Bobby important enough to try being stealthy. Bobby tries not to feel insulted.

They stop, finally in front of a... house? He nudges Johnny, just presses their shoulders together for a short second. It might be, he realizes, the first time they've touched.  
„Is it just me or is this a bit unexpected? Do you think he lives here?“

„Uhm.“ Johnny says, sounding just as surprised as him. „I guess … as long as it's inflammable I don't care.“  
It is, Bobby has to admit, not the worst way to go about the problem. 

Yet, he's not sure what to think, not sure what he'd expected the Winter Soldier's destination to look like. A cabin in the woods maybe, with a secret room beneath the floor, where he hides his victims, or an old abandoned warehouse with broken windows and no electricity, that he shares with a bunch of meth addicts maybe, but not this. Sure, Bobby's mother would get a hearth attack at the sight of the garden with it's its patches of long unkempt grass that don't suggest the owner uses their lawnmower as frequently and religiously as every self respecting family should, and yes, there is no way to look through the windows, shutters closed, but it is not an entirely unusual sight for a suburban neighborhood. It is, by far, too normal for the Winter Soldier.

„What's the plan?“ Bobby asks.  
He isn't sure what to do next. It seems wrong somehow to storm the house. What if it really is a normal home with an average nuclear family, who just happens to like a natural, unkempt garden, still inside? 

Bobby thinks about his own parents, kneeling on the floor of their living room, hands behind their backs like they are waiting for their execution. He doesn't know if he wants to risk another scenario like that. Maybe they should just wait for the Soldier to leave the house again. Then again, the Soldier had seemed calm just a moment ago, not like the kind of man who had hostages waiting for him.  
Anyway, if something goes wrong, it really should be Johnny's responsibility. 

But Johnny doesn't answer immediately. He just curls his lips and stares at the building. Then he stares at Bobby like he's waiting for his opinion, as if Bobby wasn't the one who had asked in the first place, or maybe like he trusts him, and then at the building again. They are wasting important time.  
„Maybe.“ Johnny says after some time. „Maybe, we should split up. One of us goes inside, the other one stays to attack from the outside.“

They play Rock, Scissors, Paper, and Bobby has to go inside. He isn't sure if he should count it as a win.

He feels like a deep seas diver, or so he imagines deep sea divers must feel. It is dark inside and eerily silent, not that he'd expected any sound.  
Except maybe he did, considering that up until now the Winter Soldier had been living only behind the screen of his television and between the lines of restricted files, more gaps than not. So until now he had consisted of the clunks of metal, the sound of bullets cutting through the air and the screams when his knives met flesh. But Bobby's not walking into a war zone, he is intruding a hide out, a safe space, an underwater cave.  
He's almost waiting for the hydra to strike out and swallow him whole and, worse, he almost feels like he deserves it. 

„What are you seeing?“ He's pulled out of his trance by by the sound in his ear. 

„What are you seeing?“ Johnny repeats, disturbing the silence. „Are you alright?“

„It's a regular house, I guess. I'm only in the hallway, no sight of the Soldier.“ He tries to talk as low as possible. He will find the Soldier soon enough, or the Soldier will find him (he knows what he'll prefer), either way he doesn't feel the need to accelerate their meeting. He has made it to the end of the hallway when he hears the first sounds coming from above.  
There's a small clink at first like metal meeting metal maybe and then the sound of running water. Like someone's turned on a tab. He is inevitably struck by the image of the Winter Soldier pushing a body into the tub, cutting its limbs in the water, washing the blood down the drain... then there's another image, the Soldier taking a bath, hair hidden under a shower cap, his metal arm hanging from the rim of the tub as not to get wet. He doesn't know what to make of this picture and shakes his head until it vanishes.

The hallway ends in a staircase going both ways, up and down. For a moment he considers turning around, telling Johnny to do his magic, to just set the upper floor on fire. Then his curiosity wins.

He can feel his fingertips turning cold, the familiar feeling of ice spreading through his veins until he's transformed all through. He feels alive in a way he hasn't before, like someone's just given him a new tank of oxygen when he hadn't even known that he needed one. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't like his ice-form. Then again, there's not much reason for him to shift just to sit in front of his desk all day. Health insurance be damned, he is not sure he can go back to S.H.I.E.L.D. after today.  
Like this, he makes his way downstairs, sliding more than walking down into the cellar. He is holding the flashlight in front of him like a shield and realizes three things immediately as the light illuminates the room in front of him.

a) He has reached the real dent of the Winter Soldier.  
b) This is not just a hide out, no, someone's been trying to make this a home and  
c) that someone is a person.

There is not much to the room, it is almost empty really, and if it was cleaner and lighter it might seem like something out of a magazine for interior design. He can see the headline in front of his inner eye. _W. Soldier shares his secrets: 10 tips for minimalism. Get on the trend now!_  
There is a single mattress in the corner right next to the door like someone's decided that people are less likely to come through the door than through the single, small window.  
That someone's obviously been wrong.

Directly next to the mattress is a small bookcase. Bobby moves closer and lets the light swipe over the spines of the books. There are only 4 of them, all looking well used.  
He touches the spines carefully, trying his best not to cover them in frost. He is, partially, still afraid, but there is something else that he can't deny. He feels guilty for entering a place that was so clearly not meant to be open to display. He isn't however guilty enough not to take the last book in the row from the shelf to take a closer look. 

“ _An awakening came.”_ the first page he opened read, and then: _“What a wonderful complex thing – the self! Who can trace its reintegration as morning after morning we awaken, the flux and confluence of its countless factors interweaving, rebuilding, the dim first stirrings of the soul, the growth and synthesis of the unconscious to the subconscious, the subconscious to dawning consciousness, until at last we recognize ourselves again. And as it happens to most of us after the night's sleep, so it was with Graham at the end of his vast slumber. A dim mist of sensation taking shape, a cloudy dreariness, and he found himself vaguely somewhere, recumbent, faint, but alive.”_

“Can you give me an update, please?” Johnny says through the comm.

“I will, I will, just one second.” He switches to the last page, trying to ignore Johnny's groan at the end of his line. 

_“He found himself clinging to one of the ribs of his machine, and the air was blowing past him and upwards. He seemed to be hanging quite still in the air, with the wind blowing up past him. But the world below was rotating – more and more rapidly. It occurred to him that he was falling. Then he was sure that he was falling. He could not look down.”_

“Johnny?” He asks slowly. “Have you ever read the sleeper awakes?” 

“No.” Johnny doesn't sound amused.

“Does it remind you of Ca – of Commander Rogers?” he asks anyway.

“I just told you, I don't know it. What are you even talking about? You're not supposed to raid the bookshelves. Give me intel on the enemy.”

“It's about a guy.” he says against Johnny's protests. “Who falls asleep for a long time. When he awakes, they tell him he's the richest men alive. The people expect him to be their savior or something, but they also keep him under arrest. Anyway, in the end he crashes a plane and dies.”

Johnny is silent for a moment. It doesn't last long.  
“How did he get rich?” he asks then. 

“Well his money stayed in his account all the time he was asleep. I guess it just grew.”

“So?” Johnny continues. “You're saying Rogers is probably rich? Because his money just kept on growing for 70 years? But we already knew that. Anyway, he's not even that rich, I mean, You and I, well I, could probably make just as much, if I -”

“That's not what I mean!” Bobby raises his voice even though he tries not to. He is, after all, not alone in the building. “I'm just saying there are parallels. Crashing a plane, sleeping, waking up in a  
strange time, where everyone you used to know is either dead or has forgotten about you... “

Sure it's not a perfect analogy, the elements are kind of twisted, but they are there. He can't think of any other reason, why the Winter Soldier could have picked up the book, read it and placed dog ears on the pages that seemed important.  
Then again, he thinks, if the rumors are true, at least some of them, then the Winter Soldier, too, is a man out of time, someone who shouldn't be here, shouldn't be alive, but somehow is. He doesn't know what to make out of it and searches the mattress next. 

He doesn't know why, no, that's wrong, he knows why. He is curious. He also knows it is not a good enough reason. There is nothing to expect in the Winter Soldier's goddamn bed, that could help them. If he's being honest, he doesn't know what could help them anyway. The smart thing, now more than before, would be to call S.H.I.E.L.D. Then again, S.H.I.E.L.D already had been called and the guy who had been supposed to watch the emergency telephone had abandoned his post. 

There was another number of course, the one that didn't fully belong to S.H.I.E.L.D., or at least he hopes so. All of the sudden he knows what to do. And he does.

“He is on the upper floor.” he says afterwards, while he slips his hands under the pillowcase. There is something angular stuffed inside.  
“There might be a bathroom or something. I heard water running. I think he's occupied. I need just a few more seconds. There might be something down here.”

“Down there? Down where?” The Torch sounds concerned. “You know where he is? Great? Get out and let me take care of it. I'll set the upper store on fire. It'll be alright.”

“No!” It comes out less sure than he'd anticipated. “Aren't you excited at all? You found him, all on your own. We found his, his lair.” It isn't the word he wants to use, but he doesn't think Johnny would understand. Not quite. “Don't you want to know how he lives? What his secrets are? Maybe he has a plan to do … something. I don't know. Just give me a minute and then I will come out. I promise.”

Johnny agrees. “Okay.” he says. “But no more reading.” and then, “I don't want you to die. You are my favorite coworker.”

It might just be the nicest thing someone has said to him in a long time.

He has the thing in his hand now. It is a small notebook. He is almost disappointed at first, when he opens it. Just an ordinary notebook, blank pages, no lines, small and neat handwriting.  
_“No more reading”_ Johnny had said just a second before and Bobby tries really hard to keep to it, but then he turns page after page until he gets to the last one.  
The page starts with another Wells quote. 

_“There's the body, empty. Not dead a bit, and yet not alive. It's like a seat vacant and marked “engaged”. No feeling, no digestion, no beating of the heart – not a flutter. That doesn't make me feel as if there was a man present. In a sense it's more dead than death.”_  
Beneath it there is something written with a different pen.  
_Dreamt again tonight. Bobby reads. He stroked my head and told me everything was going to be okay, before he pressed my face into the pillow to choke me. There is a line free after that, like someone wasn't quite sure what to write, and then on the end of the page, a simple I wish it wasn't a dream._

Bobby feels sick, but before he has time to think about what those lines might mean three things are happening at once: a single photograph falls from between the pages. It sails to the ground and Bobby thinks it might be Captain America, out of Uniform.  
Then Johnny screams, “Get out now!” into his ear and a rough voice behind him asks,“What are you doing in my bedroom?”

Now, just as Bobby had never imagined what the Winter Soldier's home would look like, he had never imagined how it would be to meet said Soldier. That being said, if he had imagined what their meeting would look like, it could have gone something like this:

He is in his office, the telephone in front of him silent. He has a stack of empty paperwork in front of him. There isn't much to do. Next to the papers is his coffee. It is still warm, even though he isn't really paying attention to it. He is reading a book. He has time for reading, now that he has an office job. That is when he hears the gunshots. They are followed by screams and before he can even shift in ice-form to glide towards the fight, his door is kicked open. He sees a metal fist first and then a gun pointed towards him and -

Or, another scenario: He is walking peacefully, alone, when he hears tires screeching. There is a motorcycle chase right in front of him and the Winter Soldier is on one of the bikes. He has a rifle strapped to his back and there is a knife in his hand and then - 

Or maybe: SHIELD tells him, they need him. He can't sit behind a desk all day, he's too valuable, his power an asset not a downside. And he is flattered for a moment before there's a fight and he is on the front line and shatters into a million ice pieces as the Soldier -

The point is, in any of these scenarios the Winter Soldier would be fully dressed. He isn't now. Bobby thinks he really must have taken a bath. Or, as he hears Johnny's voice in his head, showered after he had drowned his victims in the bathtub. The actual Johnny in his ear is awfully silent. In any case, the Winter Soldier is half naked, wearing just a pair of boxers. 

Immediately, Bobby's eyes are drawn towards the arm. He has seen the footage. A silver arm, destroying glass, crushing steel, breaking bones, pushing through cement. He is sure the arm can crush through ice easily. Yet, he's not as afraid as he'd expected. The arm doesn't seem so threatening now that he can see, what it's attached to, a mass of scar tissue, raised and red, visible even in the dim light. And sure, it could look menacing, wasn't it for the way his shoulder slumps, hangs just a fraction too low to make it look natural, and the way his hair hangs over his face, still wet and dripping.

It makes Bobby want to take a towel and drape it over his head to ruffle his hair, like Bobby's mother used to do, back when she wasn't afraid to touch him.  
He also has an impressive set of muscles, but Bobby is definitely not thinking about that.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?” the Winter Soldier repeats, raising his head just slightly. “What do you want?”

Just like that the notebook is slipping from Bobby's fingers. 

“I was just looking through your books,” he blurts out. Surely, not the most intelligent thing to say, what else is there.  
“I really liked The Sleeper Awakes, when I read it in high school. Science fiction, ey?” 

The Winter Soldier doesn't take his bait.  
“Not only my books.” he looks at the ground where his notebook lies.  
“You're looking through my stuff,” he says, and then, “It's private.” 

While his voice had sounded dry before, almost like he'd expected someone to enter his home and read his books, like it was just an ordinary day for him, he sounds unsure now, almost questioning, like he doesn't know if private is the right word to use when talking about an obviously private diary, containing a private photography, hidden away in his pillowcase.  
Bobby feels like a dick. 

“So, that's a nice picture-,” he starts, but doesn't know how to finish the sentence. “I'm S.H.I.E.L.D,” he says instead. “I mean, I work for them.”

“You do?” The Winter Soldier seems surprised now. “Guess that makes us coworkers.” 

Bobby thinks it's supposed to be a joke and for a second he considers laughing. He decides against it. He is almost glad that the Winter Soldier continues talking. 

“Would you be so kind as to pick up my book please? I don't like it lying on the ground.” 

Bobby picks it up. He picks up the picture, too. It really is a picture of Rogers. It is grainy but it is Rogers for sure. He is wearing the US Army Uniform, devoid of anything that says Captain America. There's an arm slung around his shoulder, another man he thinks. He can see that the arm ends in a shoulder, standard army clothing, too, and then an ear and a strand of dark hair. The photograph ends there, like someone's torn the picture into two. He wonders if the other half is somewhere here, too, maybe still in the pillowcase or under the mattress. 

The Winter Soldier makes a sound he can't quite identify. Carefully, he places the picture back between the pages and closes the book. He holds the notebook out to the Soldier who takes it with his flesh hand and puts it under the elastic band of his pants. Bobby tries not to look. He fails.

It is then that he hears Johnny again. “Shit!” he sounds like he's panicking. “S.H.I.E.L.D. is here. You need to get out now!”  
And just a second later, he hears it, the sound of the helicopters, a roaring sound, interrupted only by a voice. Someone's speaking, no, shouting through a megaphone.

“The house is surrounded. Agent Storm has informed us of your situation. If you come out calmly, we will not shoot.”

Bobby expects the Winter Soldier to panic, to react somehow, but the Soldier stays calm. Bobby himself would freak out, if SHIELD turned up at his doorsteps, heavily armed. Then again, Bobby's not an mass assassin, not quiet, and maybe it comes with the job, to stay calm, no matter what.

“Could you give me my shirt, please,” the Soldier says instead of panicking, like he's just realized that he's not dressed, like it's more important to not be naked than to break Bobby's neck and flee. And Bobby has seen the recordings, he has read the reports, he knows that he could. 

“It's on the bed.” Bobby turns to look at the Mattress again and the Soldier's right. There is a simple black T-shirt tangled between the sheets. Bobby reaches for it and stares as the Soldier pulls it over his head. He doesn't ask for pants. 

“We have the report of one Agent Jonathan Storm-” The voice booms again. Johnny's voice in his ear is frantic. “I don't think they are happy with us, well with me. No, with us. I'm sorry. Can't you just freeze the whole thing?”

“No! I can't just freeze the whole thing!” he answers, even though he's not sure he can't. He might be able to, if he could only slide past the Soldier and up to the first floor, maybe with the same amount of building below him as above, he could cover it in ice in just one go. It might be worth a shot. He has to do something at least, even if it's just trying to crash through the basement window to escape. SHIELD can handle the rest. 

Luckily, the Winter Soldier makes the decision for him. 

“It's okay.”, he says quietly, just loud enough so Bobby can hear it. And now his face is twitching, displaying something that Bobby thinks might just be fear. 

“I have an Aquarium.” he continues. From all the things that could have come out of his mouth, this is the last thing he would have expected. 

“An Aquarium?” he asks, “Like... for fish?”

“Yes,” the Soldier says. “Goldfish. I thought, I hoped... maybe someday. But there are only plants in it now.”

“Plants?” Bobby repeats. Was this supposed to be a trap? Was the Soldier making fun of him? Or was he just stupid, should he understand? And then he does. 

“Please don't freeze the house.” and now the Soldier really sounds afraid, sounds like he's pleading.  
“My plants, they will die.” 

Just like that, Bobby changes back, feeling the pleasant cold leaving his body. As always after he shifts, his skin feels clammy and his head hurts. It's like running a mild fever. 

They are leaving the building together. Bobby can't quite wrap his head around what is happening. The Winter Soldier is walking in front of him, naked feet making hardly a sound on the ground. His metal arm hangs limp along his side, like it isn't a part of him and his flesh hand is pressing onto the notebook, that's still hidden under his clothes. 

“We're coming outside,” he notifies Johnny and adds, “I'm okay.”  
Johnny lets out a breath, that could be a sign of annoyance as well as of relief. Maybe, it is both. 

“Well, I'm not,” he hears then. “I might have been fired.” 

They are standing in front of the door now. He can hear more. Not just the helicopters, also a high-pitched sound that he can't quite place, maybe a siren or an alarm, as well as a multitude of voices, screaming and shouting. He shouldn't feel bad, he really shouldn't. But he feels like he is leading an animal to the slaughter.

“Wait.” he says. before the Winter Soldier can open the door.  
“My name is Bobby.” 

The man in front of him turns around. He looks lost for a moment, like he doesn't know what to with the information. 

Then he smiles. “I am James,” he says and then they are outside.

The first thing Bobby sees, is a wall of black. It looks like S.H.I.E.L.D. has managed to assemble all of their agents. And then there's Captain America forcing his way trough the crowd, which means he must have gotten Bobby's text. 

He is wearing jeans and a T-Shirt. To think that just two hours ago Bobby had been surprised to see Johnny dressed in the same outfit, dressed like a normal person, any person that could pass him on the streets. He thinks tonight he might need a drink.

Next to him James lets out a sound of surprise and then a sob and surges forward to meet Rogers in an embrace. 

The moment he moves, one of the agents shoots. Another one follows, and then another. Bobby can see the moment they are hit, blood seeping through the fabric of Rogers shirt, staining it red in just the fraction of a second. 

He wants to scream, to do something. But before he can even collect the ice on his fingertips, Johnny Storm surges forward, bright and ablaze to haul him away. He doesn't remember much afterwards.


End file.
